Porcelain Doll
by Faust VII
Summary: She looks like a beautiful porcelain doll, all beauty and cold, with a hollow mind and body. Dark Oneshot. NarKag .I Do Not Own Inuyasha.


An elegant pale finger tapered with deadly nails gently strokes an even paler cheek. Hair the color of shadows tumbles over broad shoulders to hang like spider silk. Blood red eyes glow softly in the dim light.

He exhales softly and his breathe rolls over her moonlight pale skin. She doesn't bat a lash at the distance, just stares at him with black eyes the color of earth and wood. Her hair, the color of a starless sky, flows over her shoulders like a waterfall of black ink. She looks like a beautiful porcelain doll, all beauty and cold, with a hollow mind and body.

He smiles at her, his lips barely upturning in a mockery of a smile as he tilts her face forwards.

Blood red eyes meet earth colored eyes.

.--.

He sits, his back comfortably resting against a wall. Kana sits silently to his right, a glowing white doll in a dark room of pain and horror. Her mirror sits in small delicate hands of a child, showing it to Naraku. He watched the mirror surface a smirk gracing his face. Silence reigns.

On the mirror were flashes of gold and silver and red, and smiles. Happiness and laughter. There was no worry or panic.

To his left she gazes at the surface of the mirror, eyes showing no emotion, back straight and hands folded in her lap. No emotion crosses her eyes or body. She stares at the surface with no care or worry or hate. She gazes at it as if she does not see it, but he can see she observes every small detail, memorizing every action.

"Kikyo snapped right into place." He speaks, his voice made of soft tones of venom. "Beloved mother, sister, friend, and lover."

"She's yours."

It was a statement said softly but honestly, no emotion behind it and no mockery. He laughs gleefully as he turns to her getting joy from her simple observation. He raises a hand to twirl in a lock of her hair as he smirks at her, a flashing of teeth.

"Yes. She's a puppet and I shall play with her till she wears out."

She doesn't respond, staring at him blankly.

"And when she does wear out, she'll kill them all with a knife in the back because I wish it."

She tilts her head slightly as if asking why or perhaps accepting it. He just smirks and turns back to the mirror, the lock of black hair falling from his elegant fingers.

.--.

He watches from his dark corner, blood eyes observing her every breath. She sits in the middle of the room silently, mostly still. Kohaku lies in front of her, head rest on her lap like a child and a mother. She strokes his dark brown hair soothingly but with no love or mockery behind it, but only stares straight ahead as if unaware of her on actions. Kohaku stares at her with eyes even blanker then hers, eyes of a used and abused puppet ready to die or even just forget.

She knows Kohaku is under his control, knows he controls every things the boy does, right down to every heart beat, but she does not care. He lets her keep the child because it amuses him. Amuses him to see her treating the puppet more gently then even her own kit. And though shattered she still remembers, unlike the puppet in her arms and that makes it all more enjoyable.

He frowns from his corner as a thought strikes. He will also take the boy away at some point, perhaps destroy him in front of her with fire and steel and amusement. Just to see her reaction. He doubts he will get much of one, but it will still amuse him to destroy the boy in front of her eyes and watch to see if any part of her crumbles more, or if he has already shattered her to the limit and the pieces are only dust.

.--.

"They abandoned you." He says softly. "They replaced you."

She does not even flinch anymore. He remembers when those words cut her like a sword to the heart. He remembers her every cringe, denial, and sob. Every scream, whimper, plead she made. Nothing is said now, no new memories. She does not even care now.

It had been so easy to break her. Or perhaps, she'd always been broken. He'd just pushed her. And let her shatter upon cold, hard reality.

But then he'd picked her up and pieced her together. She wasn't whole. No, never whole. Too many shards had been buried in ash and pain. But he tied her together.

He lets his lips ghost over her pale skin and she does not resist. And he smiles.

.--.

"Fight for me." He orders.

She stares at him a moment, eyes still blank but he can see something, perhaps memory, buried deep in the depth of her soul. He can not tell if he's proud of making her stare like that or annoyed because of the lack of reaction now. Finally she bows her head.

"Of course my lord."

He smirks and waves Kagura forwards. The wind witch steps forwards reluctantly, her boy made of hate and pain and despair.

"Take her with you."

The wind mistress bows and gazes at her with eyes full of pity and disgust. She is wretched herself, but she still thinks she is even more wretched and pathetic. He still smiles.

.--.

Her sword clashes with Sesshomaru's, deadly force making a ring of steel. The demon scowls and shifts throwing his weight into his sword. She is thrown back. She lands on her feet, sword raised ready to attack again. He's trained her well.

"Miko." Sesshomaru speaks, his voice laced with apathy. "What are you doing?"

She says nothing, just gazes at him blankly. She has nothing to say to him, nor has she ever. He is nothing to her. Not ally, not enemy, just another existence in this cold harsh world.

"Step aside Miko. I have no quarrel with you." He says, his tone ordering.

"I can not." She finally speaks. "I've been ordered to fight you."

"Ordered?" He questions, a raised brow to show all the emotion he will give.

Naraku appears from no where, baboon skin wrapped around him like a cloak. He smirks at Sesshomaru who scowls at him.

"Naraku." He says in way of greeting and warning.

"Sesshomaru." Naraku says with a wide smirk. "Do you like my new toy?"

He reaches around Kagome both arms hovering above her shoulders and both hands resting on her cheeks to show her off. She stills in obediently.

"So you've gained control of her like the slayer's brother." He says almost softly, almost pityingly.

"No." Naraku says, teeth flashing in a grin of triumph. "No, she's not under my control by any spells or strings. She could leave at any moment she wished."

"Miko." Sesshomaru addresses, not getting any straight answers from Naraku.

She just bares her sword at him and slips into a protective stance in front of Naraku. Naraku reaches down her to pull a necklace from her kimono. The almost whole Shikon no Tama glistens beautifully, still pink. No mater what he did he could never get her to taint it.

"See. She could leave at any time." He smirks. "Kill him Kagome."

She lurches forwards to fight for him.

.--.

He watches as she eats the apple automatically, not tasting or seeing it. She only eats because he orders her top. He does not want his toy to starve and die. That would take all the fun and potential away. As she finishes the fruit she drops the core and stands, looking off into the distant at the setting sun. It lights the sky with brilliant bursts of red, orange, and gold, like the horizon is on fire.

Naraku sits on the soft moss of the forest floor, back to an old tree, admits the bodies of the bandits recently killed. One man is still alive, weeping as he clutches the wound across his chest. The blood loss will kill him in a few minutes. Naraku studies the destruction she wrought with nothing more then a small knife. She didn't miss a single person, one cutting killing one bandit, no more no less. The only ones alive were left alive to suffer, not because of her own error.

"Come here Kagome." He says, crooking a finger at her.

She glides over obediently, feet making but a bare whisper against the grass. When she stands in front of him he reaches up to rest his hands on her him. He tugs gently and she kneels in front of his cross legs. He moves his hand to her shoulders and fingers the collar of her kimono.

In one fluid motion he pulls the top of the kimono down her arms, giving him a clear view of her throat, collar, and cleavage. He leans towards her and languidly kisses her collar bone. She tilts her head back to give him better access as her arms wrap loosely around his neck, fingers entwining in his hair.

He ravishes her neck with kisses and nips, enjoying the taste of her skin and the obedience she shows. His fingers undo her obi skilfully and he pushes her kimono open. It slides down, only staying on as the sleeves pool in the crook of her bent elbows. His hands move to her sides and explore the soft skin of her hips and waist. He pulls her closer and she slips onto his lap, pulled flush against him.

One hand moves to grasp her chin and he pulls his lips from her breast. He forcefully kisses her, enjoying the dominance he has over her as he invades her mouth. She knows timing as she starts to undress him with small nimble fingers. When his cloths have been shed and the only thing partly covering them is her loose draping kimono he pulls back.

"Kagome." He whispers as he pulls his mouth away from hers. "Tell me who owns you."

"You." She gasps as he licks down her neck.

Every reaction of hers is planed and practiced.

"And what can I do to you"

"Anything you wish."

"Good girl." He whispers a smirk tainting his lips.

He shoves her roughly to the ground, rolling on top of her as he kisses her again and shoves into her. She screams, a normal reaction she has planned for his own show, and he smirks as he whispers soothing lies in her ears.

.--.

He laughs aloud with glee as he watches his demons fight against Inuyasha's group. Both groups have now evened out. The corpses of people on both sides litter the field.

Koga's corpse, along with his henchmen, lay motionless, impaled on spears, their faces of pain and shock. Never had they thought Kagome would kill them.

Kagura lays cut open, her guts spilling onto the road. Never had she thought Naraku would kill her for her disloyalty.

Kohaku lays, nothing more then a bloody corpse, his sister's body cut in many pieces beside him. She'd never thoughts he'd actually kill her, and he'd never thought period.

Sesshomaru left, an agreement forged between them. Naraku would leave him be and he would leave Naraku be. Never did either think they could triumph over the other without their own death.

Miroku lies on the earth at Naraku's hand missing and throat and heart torn out. Never had he thought Kagome would be so strong or so quick.

Kirara lies, whimpering in pain, missing two legs and an eye. Never had she thought her partner would fall leaving her open from behind.

She stands to his right, motionless but ready, watching the battle with such empty eyes, the price of betrayal. Kana stands to his left, her own eyes just as empty, the price of stealing souls destroyed her own. Hakudoushi is long since sucked into Miroku's wind tunnel, but Akago lays in Kagome's arms, bound by her power.

Naraku gives a chuckle as he gazes at the blood, and bodies and corpses. He sees Inuyasha pushing back his demons and motions to Kikyo. She surges forward and a knife is lodged in the back of Inuyasha. His face reads shock. He can say nothing before he is purified by the undead priestess. Then Naraku's demons tare the woman to pieces.

At his signal Kagome hand Akago to him and unsheathes her sword. She strides towards the cowering kitsune. In a flash of love and hate, pity and loathing, and emptiness she beheads him. She pauses a moment longer to look at the corpse of her former adopted son and he can see that if there was anything left in her it has died.

And he laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

.--.

He watches as she heals her arm and then wipes away the blood. When the blood is gone he steps forward and gently presses his lips against her own.

"Kagome, Kagome, Kagome." He whispers. "Can you remember?"

"…Yes." She says almost silently.

She can remember her life, her family, her friends. She can remember her capture, the torture. She can remember giving in, in surrendering. She can remember everything she once felt. Everything she once knew. She can remember ending most of it herself.

Her eyes don't even hold acceptance or pain.

"Are you mine?" He asks, breath mingling with her own as he asks his question breathlessly.

"Yours." She replies.

"All mine?"

"Yes."

"No one else's?"

"No one's."

His lips widen in a smirk and the spider looks at the fly.

"I have won." He whispers into the darkness of the silence.

"Yes." She says. "You have won."

Everything is his, including victory and her.

.--.

His strides are steady, but leisurely. The crunch of gravel under his feet is the only noise in the silent night air. He gazes about his courtyard wit a twisted smile. She walks a step behind him, calmly following his lead.

He steps over the worn stone and past his gardens of human, demon, and half breed skeletons. Rags of flesh hang from some bones giving life to some of the skeletons, telling stories of who they once where. He smiles at a particular group of ragged skeletons that once were his enemies. Purple miasma floats around his castle in a mockery of beauty.

He stops walking as he reaches his castle wall. He leans on the edge of the wall and looked over the lands beyond his castle. There is nothing but opportunity and the weak. He turns to her and raises a hand to stroke her cheek. She stares back blankly. As she breathes in he feels the spark of her miko magic destroy the miasma entering her lungs.

She can see beyond him and the wall. She sees beyond the memories and emotions. She knows what she is, who she belongs to, and the future. She can see the web that ensnared as soon as she stepped out of the well and into reality. She can see, yet she does not care. She just sees and watches like a porcelain doll; eyes unseeing, beauty radiating, coldness encasing, and body and mind hollow.

He gazes at her and sees a beautiful doll in the mists of a purple venomous reality. He loves puppets; useful and disposable. But he loves her most; beautiful, cold, and equal. He loves the lines he can see on her shattered soul, and the scars on her mind, and the beauty of her body. He loves the sharp edges of her reality and the illusions she was once shrouded with. He loves the power she radiates and the obedience she shows. He loves the dominance he holds over her.

He loves how he was the one to make her into this beautiful, powerful, hollow doll.

"Rule the world with me." He whispers.

.--.


End file.
